Reminiscence of a Lost Child
by asheniel
Summary: A short, sad, angsty story in which Lance looks in on a playground and thinks of his past.


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Authors Notes – No idea why, but I was talking to someone and I just had this sudden inspiration to write this. It's about Lance, and it's really short, descriptive, abstract, symbolic…you know the deal! I hope you enjoy, and please review!

"Reminiscence of a Lost Child"

By NHSpartanGal14

The ground is littered with splinters of sunlight, tiny fragments of broken whiteness that have managed to slip from between the grappling fingers of the trees above. They fall lightly upon eager shoulders and bare legs, freckling innocent summer skin with shattered bits of glass and light. A deep sigh escapes the parted lips of a perpetual horizon, rustling through the lofty canopy of trees overhead and the sun-bleached hair of laughing children below.

The playground shudders under the pounding footsteps of fervent innocence, creaking and groaning with the small, energized bodies that swing too high on a beseeching swingset and throw too much weight on an imploring slide. Tinkling laughter escapes young and old throats alike, raining through the air like silken frost on a hot summer day. The playground rings with laughter and joy, peace and contentment; the sea of warmth augments freely past the rusted fences and on to the verdant dew-spilled field that runs beyond it.

A pool of shadows lies impassive beneath an ominous cluster of trees, resentfully repelling the warmth and laughter that emanates from the playground and attempts to permeate the darkness's slippery membrane. Here, the air is cold and sparsely scattered; fingers of ebony ooze upon the trembling daylight that has stumbled in, engulfing it within its sticky palms and stabbing fingernails.

A hesitant figure emerges from the mist of sullen midnight, his scuffled sneakers carrying him through the lush emerald grass and crystal-splattered air until he is standing before the raw metal links and bars that separate him from a sea of chastity. A bird screams overhead, its shrill pitch ringing inside of his eardrums, filling them with its harsh obscenities and scorn, knowing as well as he does that he does not belong here. Swaying trees and sighing grass points accusingly at his slouched figure, mocking him, insulting him, hating him because he stains the naiveté that pours from the immaculate waterfall before him.

He ignores the silent taunting with a determined sweep of his hand, lifting his eyes and bringing his hands up to rest upon the imposing steel, loosely wrapping his fingers about the thin gray chains that so purposefully square off his vision. He watches the playground through swirling chocolate-colored eyes that brim with an animal hunger, greedily swallowing the laughter and fun that flows from its borders, gulping the purity into his own parched throat. One part of him scoffs this lively display of innocence that takes no shame for its laxity, while another part of him desperately yearns to jump in and be a part of it. 

His heart starts to throb with a painfully slow rhythm and his throat tightens, strangled by the invisible yet insistent hand of grating remembrance. He knows his eyes are glassy and mirrored but he doesn't bother to wipe the tears away. Slowly, almost dreamily, he closes his eyes, allowing his mind to wash over in frigid waves of memory. The water feels cold and paralyzing upon his bare toes, while foaming whitecaps lap enticingly at his thin ankles. He turns and stares into the vast horizon through wavering brown eyes, taking in the endless realm of cerulean liquid that giggles at his feet. Taking a deep breath, he firmly plunges into the numbing sea, fumbling blindly throughout its murky depths for a pearl that seems to be just out of reach. Overturning rocks and groping blank water, he prays frantically that somehow he can find it, find it wedged somewhere between slimy stones and eroded away by years of whispering waves. He wants to uncover it and tries, endlessly, through miles upon miles, until his lungs burn with fire and his heart pounds fiercely in his ears. 

He breaks the surface and is greeted by clawing black air, and he knows then that he can never find his desire, his shining pearl, because something that has never existed can never be found. Laughter has never existed in this child's life, and so he'll never find it.

He wishes he could remember a scene like this, a scene that radiates with the love and happiness that flows from the playground before him. He wants so badly to think of a time that lies void of anger and screaming and hatred, a time in his life when his limbs felt warm.

He can't seem to think, though, and his heart slowly weightens and falls. A sweltering gust of hot wind rushes upon his flesh, ruffling his thin hair and singeing his hollow-boned face. His fingers burn upon the curved steel chain and he reluctantly removes them, clenching them into pained fists at his sides. A familiarly bitter swell surges through his veins and his fists tighten, brutally crushing the empty air enfolded within. He closes his eyes, the color of smoldering ash now, feeling his heart rate quicken as he embraces the truculent adrenaline that scorches and blisters the passageways of his body. 

The ground starts to tremble, slightly at first, then slowly escalating until trees fluctuate wildly upon their roots and screams of terror flood the air about him. Part of him relishes this innocence lost, this sweet virginity tampered; part of him smirks as he listens to the frightened cries that he himself uttered as a child thrown from between trembling lips and youthful skin that are not his own. A dizzying sense of pleasure encompasses him and he doesn't want to stop; fear is an intoxicating drug that his bleeding veins have craved for so many long years yet have never been able to receive.

He jerks to realization at what he is doing and suddenly, the ground is still. The fence that obscures his vision ceases to vibrate, and so do the imperial trees that mocked him so contemptuously moments before. A quivering silence floods the sticky air, resting upon several immeasurable seconds, until a low buzz lazily nibbles away at its frail shell and suddenly the world is shouting again. He opens his eyes, immediately gazing upon the crying children and frantic parents, watching them seize one another in fierce embraces, embraces that are brimming with pools of fear and relief and amazement all at once. He briefly wonders what they are crying about; at least they have their pearls, at least they have an ocean crammed with millions of gleaming pearls. 

A single tear squeezes from a dark, thirsting eye and slowly crawls down his smooth cheek, deliberately taking its time to explore each tiny crack and corner of his flesh. It dangles momentarily upon his trembling chin before slipping and plummeting through air, through emotion, through time, twisting and turning and catching chipped shards of sunlight within its crystalline prism, hurling a miniature, iridescent veil of beauty across the rough and impersonal brown earth below. It took the tear a moment to realize that the ground was rushing awfully fast upon it – and then it was gone.

The dark figure sighs slowly, allowing the breath to escape only from a tiny crack between his lips. Shadows pervade his eyes, and his clenched fists loosen slightly. Taking one last look back at the playground before him, he turns and walks away.

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END OF STORY

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Authors Notes – I hope you liked it. Like I said, it's overly descriptive and stuff. And, by the way, if anyone really cares, Two Faces will be out in a couple of days, while Boom Goes the Silver will be out…someday. Yep, well, that's all, so review!


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